


Picture Perfect

by Artemis_Dreamer



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crack, FrostIron - Freeform, Girl Power, Humor, Multi, Mutual Crushes, Pepper!Bashing, Photo-Shoot, Shenanigans, jailbreak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Dreamer/pseuds/Artemis_Dreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which four girls team up to set up Iron Man with a certain mischief-making villain, and the fifth girl is bitter and resentful. The team ends up being very, very successful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picture Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This fiction contains the bashing of a secondary character. Namely, it insults and belittles the character of Pepper Potts. 
> 
> If you're fond of this character, please do not read this work.
> 
> As usual, don't like, don't read.

When Pepper Potts walked into the living room of her (former) boss’s penthouse, it was to find Jane Foster and her assistant Darcy taking pictures of one-another with a digital camera.

“Ooh, photo shoot?” The redheaded CEO asked lightly. 

With the team and their associates largely moved into the tower, she was attempting (and largely failing) to bond with the female members of the group. The failures were leaving her increasingly bitter.

The young women either didn’t hear her, or pretended not to. They flopped down on the leather sofa with their backs towards Pepper, and began fiddling with the camera. Both girls were clad in party dresses, Jane in gold and Darcy in green, and they looked ready for a night on the town.

(Never mind that it wasn’t even noon.)

Not really wanting to eavesdrop but not feeling at all guilty about it, Pepper paused in the doorway as she made to leave.

“Huh,” Darcy was saying. “Too blurry?”

There was a beep from the camera.

“Yikes, my hair is just crappy in this one,” she continued, whining a bit.

“Well,” Jane retorted, “if you’d ever heard of a hairbrush…”

An elbow to the ribs and an indignant huff were Darcy’s mature responses to this playful slight.

“So, these other shots-“

“-of the boys?”

Oh dear God. Pepper had heard of this, but had never thought it to be true. Close female friends, finishing one-another’s sentences. It was nauseating to her – she’d never allowed anyone to come nearly that close.

“Do you think we should-“

“-send them too? Yes. I mean, these are priceless! Mighty Thor, versus angry squirrels.”

“Clint covered in whipped cream and feathers.”

“Steve as Captain Unconscious.”

“And we can’t forget my Brucey-bear looking all cute-“

“-in only a bath towel. No.”

“Okay, fine. We’ll leave that one out.”

“Glad you see my point. Now we only need Nat and Maria to pose for us-“

“-a bunch of cute pictures of Tony-“

“-and we’re ready to send.”

Send? To whom? Pepper’s mind was working furiously as she finally left the doorway, trotting down the plush-carpeted hall towards the elevator.

Compromising pictures of the Avengers, glamor shots of the girls, and “cute” pictures of her asshole ex-boyfriend. Exactly who the hell were they sending these to?

Oh god, if this ended up online, she swore that she was going to quit (never mind that she was already on thin ice with Tony). Six PR nightmares were enough for this month, thank you very much. (Never mind the fact that she hadn’t actually done anything about these scandals, besides reading the headlines.)

Photography was the nemesis of any celebrity, and it was also Pepper’s biggest headache.

\---

It was later that day when Pepper walked in on the second photo-shoot, and this time it was most certainly inadvertent. 

Darcy and Jane were there, but it was two familiar SHIELD agents who were actually posing for the pictures. Natasha and Agent Hill were wearing strange getups that seemed to be some combination of leather and armor; yet, as befitted Agents, they did not seem remotely uncomfortable.

Of course, Nat was going on about how the scientist and the assistant both owed her big-time, and Maria was scowling between shots… but still. 

They were willingly posing in what looked like creepy fetish clothing, and were presumably okay with having their photos sent to whoever-it-was from this morning.

The group was taking a quick break, and had struck up a lighthearted conversation. 

“So, remind me how you talked two Agents into doing something like this?” Natasha was asking. 

“Yes, something so very unprofessional.” Hill added stiffly.

“We’re just that good,” Darcy smirked.

“Oh, hush.” Jane prodded her assistant in the arm before continuing. “Besides, it’s been what, almost a month?”

“One month as of tomorrow.” Agent Hill confirmed.

“Exactly!” Jane enthused. “So, we figure, this will cheer him up a bit. It can’t be fun, being in solitary.”

Alright, now Pepper was thoroughly confused, a common side-effect of eavesdropping. Apparently, criminals were now somehow involved? Oh God. This just reeked of scandal. 

Her attention was jerked back to the conversation by Natasha’s next words.

“So,” the Black Widow smirked, expression 100% mischievous master spy. “Have you gotten your hands on the good dirt yet?”

“Loverboy?” Darcy chuckled, pulling up her flannel sleeve to reveal a massive yellowing bruise. “Well, you can’t say that I haven’t tried.”

“Well, we could be persuaded to help,” Natasha offered evenly.

Hill gave a decidedly indignant cough, and Nat hastily revised her statement.

“Well, I would provide the actual “help”, and my fellow agent would continue to keep this quiet.”

“Wonderful,” Jane smiled gratefully. “Anything and everything would be great. Sleeping, eating, sneezing, half-drunk, elbow-deep in machines…”

“I know what you need.” Natasha concurred. 

“Damn right!” Darcy cheered. (She always had been a tad over-enthusiastic.)

It was about here that Pepper decided to duck her head into the conversation, stepping into the room. She didn’t notice that a curious Bruce was stepping forward to fill her vacated spot near the door.

“Hey, ladies,” she smiled tightly, strutting in. She stopped in front of their little group, still smiling, and casually ran a hand over a piece of armor that had been discarded on a side table. “Need another to pose?”

Four spines stiffened with annoyance. Three pairs of eyes glared at her, while the fourth presence left the room via the other exit.

“It really wouldn’t be a great idea-“ Jane began frankly.

“-or a smart one.” Darcy finished.

Natasha just glared derisively, silently willing the woman to get lost.

For Pepper, that was really the final straw - Weeks of being given the brush-off caught up to the CEO in an instant. 

“What?” She snapped viciously. “Am I not good-looking enough to join your little bondage fashion shoot? Do you just hate me? Or are these photos going to my ex’s new girlfriend? Is that it? WELL?!”

The girls stood in stunned silence, listening as the redheaded businesswoman completely lost it.

There was a long moment of silence before Jane took the initiative to speak. “These photos are going to someone very vulnerable, who cares very much about Tony,” she sighed. “We’d rather not hurt him.”

“Him?!” Pepper exclaimed furiously. “That asshole dumped me for a man?!”

Jane appeared wounded by this unnecessary harshness, but Darcy spoke what was on both of their minds.

“Bitch,” she smirked, assuming an exaggerated sassy accent. “You had your chance. Now, back away from the billionaire.”

“Yes. Step away, or I’ll be forced to remove you.” Natasha cracked her wrists in a rather ominous fashion, enjoying this far more than any trained professional really should.

“You… you harpies!” The CEO spat, shoving her clipboard roughly against Darcy’s chest. “Your mystery boy is the reason why that jerk left me!”

Turning on her heel, she stalked out the way that she had come, pushing Bruce aside.

Jane shook her head sadly, marveling at this remarkable example of denial. “Yes, because that’s the truth.”

(Say nothing of the fact that she had obviously and openly been after his billions and his body rather than an actual relationship, and was only still CEO because she had a better-than-average lawyer.)

Still in the doorway, though now slightly ruffled, Bruce made his presence known with an awkward cough. 

“Wow,” he observed. “Straight out of Mean Girls.”

Darcy giggled, regarding her own “special someone”. “Have I ever told you that I love it when you talk chick flicks?”

“I’ll have to keep it in mind,” was the dry response.

It was about then that the kissing started, and the other girls retreated (Nat with the camera), to give the mushy couple their space. With luck, they could continue work on setting up another, equally mushy couple.

Phase two of the photo op was now complete, with a fringe benefit of Pissed-Off Pepper. 

What was the term? Oh yes. 

Flawless victory.

\---

Another day had dawned, and with it, a new set of problems.

Tony Stark pretended not to notice the camera flashes; he really did. They seemed to appear from all sides, at random intervals, and they always managed to catch him off guard. 

It was like the goddamn paparazzi had moved into his tower.

Only, that couldn’t have been it. JARVIS had reported no unauthorized persons during his first two scans of the building, and was currently scanning for a third time.

There had been that incident a couple of days back, where he’d heard a shutter behind him in the garage, whirled around, and flung his wrench on instinct. There had been a yelp from behind the Maserati, but investigation revealed no evidence that there had actually been anyone there.

He had chalked it up to an overdose of caffeine making him jumpy.

(That had been the story of Darcy’s horrific bruise.)

Today, however, it most certainly hadn’t been his imagination. There had been six consecutive flashes as he yawned and stretched that morning, fresh out of bed at fifteen minutes to noon. There had been distinct shutter sounds during his combination breakfast-lunch.

Then, the flashbulbs in the lab, the pictures snapped as he relaxed at the bar, and of course, the shutters that had gone off in the shower.

Who or what the actual hell?

Certainly, he lived with a pair of spies, but they were SPIES, for pity’s sakes. If they wanted to gather image data they wouldn’t need a camera with a goddamn flash. 

It was at dinner that he finally got his hands on the person who had been playing shutterbug (and then was promptly and painfully pinned against the dining table, face-down in his smoked salmon). Of all the people in his tower, it just had to be the one person who genuinely terrified him.

“Looking good, Red,” Tony grinned weakly from where his face was crushed against a plate of wet fish. He supposed he deserved this; she was a trained killer, and not at all a touchy-feely person.

“You will NOT touch me again.” She spat.

“That’s it?” Tony asked, tone filled with disbelief. “That’s my explanation?” 

“What were you expecting?” Natasha asked coolly.

“A good reason why you’re playing paparazzi. It’s flattering, sure, but it’s also really fucking annoying.”

“Annoying?” She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Given what she knew about Stark’s ego, she had assumed that he would be pleased by the attention.

“Yeah. When I can’t scratch my own ass in my own tower without a flash going off, there’s a problem.”

“Feh.” The Black Widow made a distinctly Russian-sounding derisive noise. “If you knew the reason, you’d think twice about that choice of words.”

Tony gave an exasperated huff, wriggling in her still-painful grip. 

Giving a slight start, as if only now remembering that she still had the billionaire pinned, Nat let him up. He straightened up gingerly, trying to wipe a large quantity of basil pesto off his face using only his sleeve. 

“So, a reason.”

“Yes, though Jane might mind that I’m disclosing this.”

“Jane’s in on this freaky photo-shoot?” Tony asked incredulously. “As in, Point Break’s girlfriend?”

“It was her concept.” Natasha explained. “The photos are going to be a gift.”

“To who? My stalker?” Tony was just a tiny bit creeped-out.

“To Loki,” she replied bluntly.

Well, there went the sleazy feeling. Giving that gorgeous god the fan special could only end well for the billionaire.

“Jane was told by Thor that his brother had an interest in you. With him almost finished one month in prison, she decided that some photos would make a nice surprise.”

That really shouldn’t have flattered Tony as much as it did. The crazy, sexy, holy-shit-he’s-charming Norse god that had tried to kill him a month ago; that god, having an active interest in him.

Well, that was quite the spark of hope – maybe all those … intimate… fantasies that the billionaire had had weren’t just wishful thinking. 

Score!

Tony smirked broadly, considerably turned on. “Someone should tell Tall, Dark, and Norse that the interest is mutual.”

Natasha sighed lightly, studiously ignoring the inventor’s visible arousal. If there was a man alive sluttier than Iron Man, she had (thankfully) never met him.

“So,” Tony grinned, seemingly oblivious to her annoyance. “You need a few more pictures?”

Natasha reluctantly nodded. This would be far easier with a willing subject.

It was time for a Sexy Stark photo-shoot.

However, there was one thought that nagged at Tony’s mind as he posed in various stages of undress. One month, and the god of mischief still hadn’t escaped prison. There was something just wrong about that.

Perhaps he was painfully restrained? Perhaps he was being tortured? The billionaire wouldn’t allow it.

Something had to be done, and Tony knew that he would be the only one doing it. 

We’ve got a classic DiD, folks. Damsel in Distress.

\---

Asgardian prison cells were decidedly dull – Loki had discovered this during his first week in this frustratingly inescapable cell. It was a fact that grew more wearisome with every passing hour.

So, it came as a godsend (pardon the pun) to have visitors at all, even if the visitor was only his despised brother.

“Ah! Little brother! I trust that you are well!” Thor boomed.

“I am in a prison cell, Thor.” Loki grumbled back. His brother was honestly the most oblivious creature in the nine realms; well, save for Tony Stark. (It still irked him that a man with such a reputation for sleeping around couldn’t recognise another man’s come-on even when it went and threw him through plate glass.)

Ignoring Loki’s sarcasm, his brother continued cheerfully. “I have brought you a present from Midgard!” He proffered the manila envelope from behind his broad back.

“Correspondence?” The trickster guessed unenthusiastically. 

“Something far better than that, brother mine.” The thunderer wore a conspiratorial smile that seemed greatly out of place on his disarmingly stupid-looking face. 

The mischief-maker sighed, having little patience for the games of simpletons. 

“Leave it, and leave me,” he replied.

Surprisingly, Thor actually listened, leaving after administering only one bone-crushingly painful – and thoroughly unwanted – hug. 

Shoving aside the thought that suggested that the hug would have been far better coming from Anthony, Loki calmly opened the sealed envelope and tipped the contents into his hand.

Hmm. Photographs, if he remembered his brief Midgardian stint correctly. Still images that captured moments in time more accurately than any portrait ever could.

Leafing through them, his mood past from boredom to amusement, and on through to satisfaction.

He couldn’t say that he cared much for the images of the Avengers females, having always preferred the male gender. Still, seeing the images in which they were arrayed in replica Norse armor was rather pleasing.

(Particularly the Lady Widow clad in a golden helmet that was remarkably similar to his own.)

Moving on, he discovered several thoroughly compromising and thoroughly amusing photos of his brother’s petty band of heroes. Ah. He had been unaware that the spine of a mortal could actually be bent at that angle, and equally unaware that it was possible for a man to look so much like a bedraggled chicken. 

It was the compromising photo of Thor, however, which brought a truly amused smile to his lips. His hapless sibling, being mobbed by what appeared to be a pack of highly vicious small rodents.

At this point, his perusal had led him to the photos of the one man whose face he had secretly longed to see. There, in glorious full color, there were more than a dozen full-color photographs of Anthony Stark.

The billionaire was posing in a few of the shots, but the candid images were somehow more appealing. The life of a fascinating man was laid out in these photos, which Loki might be willing to admit that he was grateful to receive.

Stark was genuinely cute when he yawned. He was downright adorable with messy hair while looking as though he’d just gotten out of bed.

He was utterly gorgeous while half-dressed, and even more gorgeous when completely undressed in a marble-tiled shower. Yes, anyone watching would be able to see the rare sight of Loki blushing.

As he paused on the last photo, which featured Anthony lounging across his bar, eye half-lidded as he took a sip of scotch, he spied an anomaly.

There was a small black arrowhead sketched in the bottom right corner of the photograph.

It was a simple implied instruction: “turn over”.

Flipping the photo, he scanned the messily scrawled text on the back.

“Lokes.” It read. “Two things. Yes, I want you – very much so. Seriously, you’re fuckably gorgeous. Also, if I were you, I would duck right about NOW.”

This second line was mystifying, but long centuries of dodging harm caused him to act instinctively. He hit the floor at the exact instant that a high-pitched sonic wave shattered the inch-thick glass of the prison door into hundreds of wickedly sharp airborne shards. 

Drawing himself to his feet in one fluid motion, he whirled to face said door. What he saw caused his heart to skip a beat.

“Anthony,” he breathed.

“The one and only,” Iron Man grinned back as he flipped up his helmet visor.  
Loki reached out to catch the billionaire’s wrist, and tugged the other man towards him. Unprepared, the billionaire fell against his chest. 

“My knight in iron armor,” the trickster smirked. 

Despite knowing the urgency of the situation, he pressed a firm, swift, and passionate kiss to Tony’s lips.

The green flame of a teleportation spell had begun to flicker around the god’s fingertips – the seal on his magic had been shattered along with the glass. Momentarily, his fickle nature contemplated leaving the Man of Iron here in the cell, to be caught by the guards whom he could hear clattering down the hallway. 

The idea was gone in an instant. 

He had a devilishly handsome and completely infatuated mortal within his reach, a mortal that he himself had longed for. He was not about to allow this opportunity slip away.

Laying a hand on the shorter man’s chest, fingers spanning across the surface of the arc reactor, Loki activated the spell.

Yes, this was the right way to go about it – freedom, with a side of getting lucky. A picture perfect ending to a classic jailbreak.

In the words of the legendary Tony Stark… 

Score!

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Ha ha, so that was long.
> 
> I've been feeling much better these last couple of weeks, and this was the result. My humor muse is finally back, and was sorely missed. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. Your feedback is greatly appreciated - I'd love to know what you thought.
> 
> (Oh, and if anyone catches the "Damsel in Distress" reference, they win an internet and a lifetime supply of cookies - Please tell me I'm not the only one who watched that movie.)
> 
> Cheers!


End file.
